


Animal

by callmesigyn



Series: Firebird [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Aurora - Freeform, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Drinking, Dubious Consent, F/M, Inspired by Music, Masturbation, Moral Ambiguity, Oral Sex, Protective Sandor Clegane, Sandor Clegane Swears, Sansa-centric, Swearing, The Author Regrets Nothing, The Bear and the Maiden Fair, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2020-03-02 09:00:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18807958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmesigyn/pseuds/callmesigyn
Summary: In a world in which Sansa left King’s Landing with Sandor, he shows her the meaning of the song The Bear And The Maiden Fair.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: In the books Sansa would be around 12. In the show she would be a little older. However, both are still underage and despite being normal in canon, it can still make people uncomfortable.

After so much time of travelling by horse, Sansa was beyond sore. They had left King’s Landing almost a full moon ago, the Hound and her. She remembered the exact moment she decided to run away with him, a moment of clarity in the darkness of her bedroom, a green hue of distant wildfire behind him, covering his face in shadows. She guessed that the fact she could not see his ugly scars helped her make the decision to do as he had asked.

  
_“I could take you home. No one would hurt you, or I’d kill them”._

  
He would take her home, to her mother and Robb. Pain gripped her heart as she wondered if she would ever see Winterfell again. She doubted it. As for the latter, Sansa believed him, had seen him kill those men as they held her down to her smallclothes that day of the bread riots. She remembered the many times he protected her, even lying to Joffrey for her. He surprised her that day as the words he said to her one day cleared in her mind: _“A dog will die for you, but never lie to you”_. But he was Joffrey’s dog, not hers.

  
She noticed the Hound breathing harder behind her. As they were leaving the capital, they noticed they only had his horse to ride with, and there was no time to find her another. So as they rode together, he had managed to put some tiny distance between them. Despite having flowered almost six months ago, she was still so small to occupy much space on Stranger’s back. It was he who was too large, so they had to be closer than it was appropriate. But then again, most people might think the King’s betrothed fleeing with a deserter would be more than improper.

  
Sansa heard the rumours as they crossed villages. _The almost-Queen fucking a dog. A traitor for a traitor._ They wounded her, could tell they bothered her companion as well and, if it weren’t for her presence and the bounty on their heads, Sansa was sure the Hound would’ve killed them all before the words could leave their mouths.

  
Stranger let out a noise of unknown meaning to her, but the Hound seemed to think the black beast was tired. A sigh escaped her lips. He was a war horse, yes, but he deserved the rest, especially with the extra weight added to his back.

  
They rode silently for a while before coming across an inn. Sansa watched with fascination as the Hound gave Stranger to a completely frightened young boy, paid for a room and told her to wait there as he would bring her some food. She had never experienced a common life outside castle walls, so she took her time to climb the stairs. Too curious of the serving women who showed incredible amounts of cleavage, of the loud men with their ale and the drinking song they were singing. Reaching the top of the stairs, Sansa managed to isolate a few of the words through all the shouting.

 _I called for a knight, but you’re a bear!_  
_A bear, a bear!_  
_All black and brown and covered with hair_  
_She kicked and wailed, the maid so fair_  
_But he licked the honey from her hair_

With a frown, she moved inside her room for the night – not really understanding the song – and hoped she remembered asking the Hound about it later.

  
She liked when they talked, not due to him specifically, but mostly because she had no one else to talk to. And although she hated his rude words and scary tone, she still looked forward to these conversations with him. Sansa liked small talk, however, he did not but she could see he liked their talks as well. They were a peculiar duo indeed.

  
Once when the Hound entered _their_ rooms – Sansa noted the single bed – and she asked him of the song, he grunted out a reply.

  
“It’s called The Bear and the Maiden Fair”.

  
“Well, I- I don’t understand it”, she said. “Though I suppose having honey stuck on one’s hair must truly be a horrible affair”.

  
The Hound laughed like her words had been the funniest thing in the world. A loud, deep laugh that Sansa was sure made her cheeks redden in embarrassment.

  
“What’s so funny?” She asked in a small voice, trying and failing to sound as commanding as her mother’s voice could be.

  
“Nothing, Little Bird”.

  
“Tell me”, she demanded.

  
In an instant, her arms were held forcefully by his strong arms. She felt her eyes water.

  
“What’s this?” He asked violently, shaking her. “Little Bird’s giving orders? You think me your dog now?”

  
“No, please, Ser!” She yelled, feeling tears flowing freely from her now. “You’re hurting me”.

  
She was used to this behaviour from him in King’s Landing, but never while they were on the road. When he breathed in her face, Sansa realised it was because he was drunk on wine like when in the capital. His last skin had ended the night of the Blackwater, but he wasn’t aggressive then. He simply passed out against a tree the very moment they stopped to rest and Sansa was forced to cling to him to stay warm during the night.

  
“You want to understand The Bear and the Maiden Fair? Let me show it to you”.

  
Sansa squealed as he threw her on the bed, for the first time in months fearing him. Even more so, when he pressed his nose to her honey-coloured hair and sniffed it as if it were an oasis amidst hundred thousand miles of sand.

  
His hands moved to her breasts, or rather, the barely lack of them. He grabbed whatever he could grab and squeezed whatever he could squeeze. He moaned as he moved his lips to hers, touching them softly. Despite his rough behaviour, Sansa felt a queer heat inside her that her long lost friend in Winterfell said it to be the kind of excitement a woman should expect from a good husband. But the Hound was not her husband.

  
“No”, she whispered. “No, _please”_.

  
He appeared to not have heard her, however, as he moved his mouth to kiss his way down her neck. Sansa wanted to push him away, thinking them wrong for doing such things, but he was too big for her puny strength.

  
She felt her dress, a simple one the Queen had given her, open. Sansa tried to cover herself, but his hands pried hers away. The young girl saw the heat in the Hound’s eyes as he took in her body. Tiny breasts, even tinier waist but quite sizeable hips. His lips moved to her chest and Sansa resisted the urge to giggle as his beard touched her. His tongue moved to lick her nipple as a dog would its food.

  
Sansa moaned, never thinking pleasure could come out of there. If they were wrong for doing this, then she was even more so for enjoying it. She grunted in want as he licked a trail from her chest to her hips, kissing them before diving lower.

  
She gasped as she saw his nose touch the auburn curls of her womanhood.

  
“Do you want to know the meaning of The Bear and the Maiden Fair?” He rasped against her and she was startled by the feeling of his breathing on her most secret place.

  
“Yes”, she sighed.

  
Surprise seized her as he licked her there. She squirmed beneath him, trying to get away, but he grasped her hips harshly. So harshly even, she was sure there would be bruises there in the morning.

  
“Relax, girl. I won’t break you in”.

  
She stopped struggling then, trusting him not to take her maidenhead. After all, he had not once broken her reliance during their journey out of King’s Landing. And the gods know he had many opportunities to do so.

  
The lyrics of the song coming back to her, Sansa understood them as she was left screaming in pleasure as the Hound’s tongue flickered up and down, in and out of her lady parts. And when he sucked the nub at the top, Sansa would see stars. She never thought it could be like this, never thought an ugly man such as Clegane could give her this pleasure.

  
She looked into his large grey eyes as he licked her. He had a smug glint in his eyes, perhaps amused that a lady such as herself moaned like some wanton whore, but Sansa also saw happiness. She realised with a start that this might as well be his first time as well, not thinking any woman could’ve willingly given herself to him like she was without charging.

  
“Please”, the whispers asking him to stop had long ago turned into pleas for something Sansa didn’t understand, but she was glad that he would be showing her.

He was not handsome, far from it. But he was her protector and, for now, her bear.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been convinced to continue this fic. I have an outline for how things are supposed to go down but like, you guys can request some scenes or confrontations or questions you'd like to see <3

Sansa walked the grounds of Winterfell. Red and blue banners fell from the stone walls onto the white snow, drowned in the wasted arrows. Her feet carried her through the courtyard and at the side of an empty food cart, a wolf sat watching her with upturned ears.  _Lady,_ she noted with a start. Sansa ran to greet her long lost friend, but before she could reach Lady, a white raven landed on the head of her wolf, turning her eyes to white and cause her to fall on the ground. Sansa could only hear her screams -  _"Not again"_ \- as the raven perched itself on top of the food cart and shrieked.

Moving her eyes briefly from the bird to Lady's body,  _it was gone._ There was only Sansa, looking back at the white raven she just now realised had blue eyes. The brightest shade of blue gazed at her like it was the wolf, and she the rabbit. Until the predator finally pounced, trying to beak and slash her eyes. Sansa screamed and screamed for what it seemed like hours. With a snarl, something saved her.

Trying to discern anything through the blood flowing from her orbs, Sansa managed to make out a big, black dog biting the bird's head off. Freeing a breath from her lungs, only a single thought passed through her mind:  _The dog protected her. The dog protected her._ When the black beast turned, however, his eyes were the same vivid blue of the raven's, white foam drooling from his mouth.

The dog barked, jumping on her with yellow teeth, jaw right open and a mouth of bones.

She woke up with a silent gasp. Sweat clung to Sansa's forehead as she took in the empty room and felt herself blush, remembering the events of the previous night. Her mother and septa had always taught her that a lady's wedding night should be all about satisfying her husband. Though of course the Hound was no husband of hers, Sansa never once thought that an act so shamefully improper could feel so good. The Queen had said once that it would hurt - but it hadn't - and only ever really mentioned one way to do it. But the Hound had never been inside of her, there was no blood on the sheets, her maidenhead still intact. She was thankful for such things at least. Still, something had bloomed in her core. Sansa wasn't entirely sure what it was or what it meant, but she was excited to find out.

With a smile, she rose naked from the bed and headed for the copper tub in the middle of the room.

 _The Hound must've sent for one while I was asleep,_ she thought.

Sansa's smile only grew bigger. She touched her pale fingers to the water, finding it lukewarm. Not wishing to bathe in the cold, the girl quickly climbed into the tub and sighed. Thinking once more about the previous night - cruel lips on her womanhood, licking, smelling and sucking - and felt a strange stirring in her lower stomach. She pressed her thighs together on instinct and felt pleasure shock through her, tingling her body with butterfly kisses. Tentatively, Sansa lowered her finger to her lips and stroked it like the Hound had. She moaned at the still foreign sensation,  finding her voice growing louder each time she flickered the little nub above her entrance.

She almost screamed, but not from pleasure, when the Hound entered the room without knocking. His eyes were wide, frantically searching the room before letting them fall on her form in the tub; naked, flushed and - most embarrassingly for her - fingers deep into the clear water - their location obvious.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, closed it, and walked straight out of the room, leaving Sansa in nothing but shame.

Coyly, she got out of the water and quietly dressed in her previous blue gown from King's Landing. The one people said always completended her eyes.

Leaving the room and climbing down the stairs, there was no sound of rowdy men or bard songs from the other night. There was only the Hound, gulping down a large cup of ale, and a handful of other people - three dirtied men talking in hushed tones at the corner, a green-looking boy scrubbing a table and an older man who clearly had few too many, as he was snoring away on top of the table.

The Hound barely glanced at her when she sat down in front of him.

"Good morning, ser", Sansa said.

He didn't even bother to correct her as he did so often - merely grunted and took a long sip of his drink.

After a few minutes of silence, Sansa noticed how the three men from the other table stared at her whilst talking in whispers.

Sansa turned to toy with her hands. She was concerned. "Why are they staring at me?" She asked.

"Silk's too fine for a lowborn", he answered. "Gotta buy you some rags".

Swallowing a horrified gasp, Sansa's heart seemed to leap from her throat, the Hound muttered a curse word under his breath as one of the men yelled:

"Oi! Is that the Stark girl?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sansa will grow at the course of this fic, but in these first chapters she'll act like a 12/13 year old child maybe 'cause that's what she is as of now. But all will change in time.  
> Also, we got a bit of greensight going on there :)


	3. Chapter 3

The Hound had his sword drawn before Sansa could even blink - the ale forgotten.

His massive form turned to the three men. One of them was short, bald and with a yellow tunic; the others were taller. One with long curly hair and the other blond and muscled, but a slim cat compared to her companion.

 _The_ _dog protected her._

It appeared so easy for him - cutting down the arm of the man with the long hair, then moving his sword in and through the bald one's stomach. Sansa found herself vomiting as she watched the Hound pulling out the blade from inside the shorter man, taking his entrails along with the steel. The girl received a glare from the young boy scrubbing the tables, but she couldn't reply as she was still dry heaving, crouched to the floor. The boy wasn't phased at all.

A twinge of fright surged through her, as well as a desperate need to flee, when the last man of the fallen trio drew his own sword. Smaller than the Hound's, but just as deadly.

"Stay behind the table, girl", her protector said, seemingly sensing her panic. Or perhaps simply expecting it.

She did as she had been told but did not look at the fight.

Sansa heard the clashing of swords, then nothing, then a grunt, then a gurgle and the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the ground; just as it had on the Hand's Tournament a year ago - when her father had been alive still. It was strange to think that so much pain had been inflicted upon her in just one year, in the harmless minutes of each day. Wiping the tears that had threatened to fall from her eyes, Sansa remembered the tourney, and who had won it.

He didn't look like a champion now, she noted. Still standing, he had plungled his blade in the blond's throat - his blood splattering the Hound's face. Sansa grimaced, but did not vomit, when her protector moved with a feral grin and finished off the armless man on the floor.

She was suddenly vividly reminded of the cruel words he once had said to her.

_"Killing is the sweetest thing there is"._

Was it true? Sansa wondered. Could killing be better than what they had shared the other night? _No,_ her heart screamed whilst her head called her a stupid little girl with stupid little dreams.

Even now, he refused to look her way, instead turning to the young boy and asking if there was wine.

"I'll take five", he said, giving the lad one golden dragon.

He nodded in understanding and quickly ran out of the room and into the kitchens.

"Are you well, my lord?" Asked Sansa with a delicate hand reaching for the Hound.

He moved his arm forcefully out of her grasp. "Stop chirping your fucking courtesies at me, child!"

Child.

_... Child._

Sansa felt tears brim in the corner of her eyes. He, the same man who had been between her legs now called her a child. She had been a child when they met, yes, but surely now he could see that she was a woman flowered and bedded. How dare he?

"Shit, Little Bird. Stop that".

She had her eyes closed, her brows furrowed. When Sansa felt large hands gently wiping the cursed tears that had fallen on her cheeks, she was afraid that she would open her eyes and find his caresses to have been a mere illusion. So she quickly turned away from him and moved upstairs to fetch their things, knowing they would be leaving the inn in a matter of minutes. She found him again in the stables, loading four wineskins into Stranger's saddlebag, the fifth one already opened in his hand. Sansa stopped briefly to wonder if it was the drinking that made him mean or if it was just his nature.

He stared the moment her presence was noticed. If Sansa didn't know any better, she would say she saw a gleam of remorse in his grey eyes, but according to him, she supposed she _didn't_ know any better. She was only a child after all.

Sansa made her way to his side and waited for him to help her climb on his horse. He let out a dark chuckle and lifted her from behind onto the saddle. A squeal came from the back of her throat as the Hound's fingers grazed the side of her breasts.

Climbing behind her on Stranger, he pulled her closer by the waist.

"It's a long journey 'til Riverrun, Little Bird", he said. "Better get some sleep".

It was so strange to Sansa how someone could be so hateful one moment and yet so sympathetic the next. In a way, it scared her. But she made him forget himself to give her such sweet pleasure once - Sansa was sure she could do it again.

Hopefully.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys!! Sorry I went missing. A lot of things have been going on, but now I'm free from High School and uni only starts in February so here I am

Sansa and her companion rode for another four days until they found a clearing. Four days of sleeping on a horse’s back and drinking nothing but wine, it was no surprise why Sansa was beyond exhausted.

The clearing with a small lake served as an extreme relief for the girl. When they had left the inn what it seemed like years ago, Sansa barely had time to wash the taste of vomit of her mouth before returning to the Hound’s side. Not only that, but he had refused to stop unless to relieve himself or to let her do the same. Sansa was famished.

She begged him with her eyes.

“We should be able to rest here for a while”, he said.

Sansa sighed in relief before practically running to the lake, glancing behind her to see if the Hound was looking and dropping her gown to the earth. She felt his stare even before she turned around to face his wide eyes and slacked jaw.

It’s like he had never seen it before.

Feeling colour rise to her cheeks, Sansa jumped into the lake and tried as best as she could to wash off the dirt of her skin and the oil in her hair.

“Don’t you want to bathe?” She asked.

He merely scoffed.

“You reek”.

“It’s not like you’re a bed of roses yourself, Little Bird”, he replied.

Sansa almost let herself feel affected by the words until she saw a queer glimpse of guilt flash through his eyes. She had seen a lot of those on their journey and she had no idea what to think of it. Maybe he was being extremely cautious in regard for her feelings because he thought her a child still, but she couldn’t be sure.

They had one, perhaps two, conversations that involved more than hollow courtesies and crass words in the whole moon and four days they had left King’s Landing. One was about the fastest way to get her to her brother and mother in Riverrun, then another one the day before, when they crossed a traveller who told them the King in the North would reach the Twins in about a week or two – when they had argued over their destination.

Sansa knew the Hound wanted to take a ship to the Free Cities and leave Westeros forever, but he had sworn to take her home. And her home was going to the Twins.

He mumbled something about searching for dinner, taking his now cleaned sword and scampering to the woods. Sansa almost bid him goodbye, but she felt a strange hold on her calf and thought it some kind of waterweed. She thought nothing of the weed seemingly letting her feet go before suddenly being constricted around the throat by a large snake.

She let out an inhuman shriek. In seconds, the Hound was in front of her, sword raised and cutting off the snake’s head as it whipped around to face him. Its corpse laid waste in Sansa’s neck. The Hound helped her out of the water and detangled the dead snake from her form, trying hard not to stare at her small breasts.

“I found dinner”, he said.

Pulling her dress over her head again, not bothering if it got wet, Sansa sat down on a tree bark – still shaking from the attack. Before she could protest his dining options, however, her stomach succumbed to a loud growl.

He let out a sound Sansa thought it might have been a laugh.

“These animals usually only come after someone your size if they thought you were a threat”, he said as he sat down not too close from her, smirking as he looked at her small form on the log. “You’re lucky I hadn’t wandered off too far”.

Not replying, Sansa shamefully watched with morbid fascination as the Hound placed the snake on the log beside him while holding it by its neck and cut the snake’s head off with a knife that he guarded on his belt. She shook off her feeling of ignominy. While her mother always scolded her for being curious, Sansa felt such special circumstances were becoming of her attention.

And apparently so did the Hound.

He turned the snake’s headless corpse to face her and made a gesture of throwing the head far away. Sansa observed as the man’s large hands neared the end tail of the creature, finding what seemed to be a tear in the skin. The Hound took his knife and sliced his way through the entire length of the snake’s body, casually opening it to reveal its insides.

Sansa should have felt her food return to her mouth, but she hadn’t eaten in days. Her protector had skinned rabbits and such for her to eat before, but she had always chosen to ignore it. Now, she was captivated by the way the Hound’s knife cut away the snake meat from the skin, memorising the gentle movements of his hands for such a brute. Such image made Sansa’s thoughts wonder back to the soft way the same hands clutched her milky thighs with something akin to despair.

“Why are you doing this?” She asked suddenly.

“Doing what?”

“Helping me”.

He furrowed his brows, as if he wasn’t sure of it himself.

Peeling away the snake skin from its body with one swift pull, the Hound shrugged. “Good money”, he said.

Sansa had the urge to roll her eyes, but didn’t wish to appear childish – at least not in front of him. She could roll her eyes while he slept like she did every night she wasn’t forced to sleep on a horse. When she did ride on Stranger, she rolled her eyes all the time. Although she would always wind up feeling guilty, as if she was dishonouring Septa Mordane’s teachings.

“Why did you leave the battle then?”

Sansa wasn’t looking at him when she heard him sigh. Her blue eyes trailed up to his face, but his gaze was set on his boots.

“The fire”, he answered simply yet Sansa understood.

Her eyes focused on a patch of dry mosses on the log as she remembered that day during the Hand’s Tournament, quickly sending a small prayer for her father’s soul. Sansa remembered hearing the story of how the Mountain had pressed his younger brother’s face to the flame and had watched it melt into the Hound’s current face.

“The worst part wasn’t even the pain”, he choked, startling Sansa. “The worst part was that it was my brother who did it”.

She felt her eyes fill with pity, but he was still looking down at his boots... _They weren’t even pretty boots._

Glancing back at that patch of dry mosses, Sansa plucked it from the log and placed it on the ground, along with some sticks and leaves to start a fire – thinking maybe she could spare him of some possible anxiety when he would have to make a fire for them to sleep next to. She started rubbing two sticks together like she had seen him do it before, but nothing ever happened. She must have tried for at least twenty minutes before she heard a soft chuckle.

“That’ll never work, Little Bird”. He grouched closer to her, grabbing the sticks from her hand.

She ignored the tingly sensation on her fingertips as their hands brushed and rolled her eyes, thinking maybe he should’ve offered his input twenty minutes earlier. Her eyes went wide as she realised she was probably impolite and she hesitated before glancing at his eyes, but she only saw amusement there.

A few moments later, a fire started.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by AURORA's "Animal"


End file.
